


The Colonel's Advice

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholic Dean, Alternate Universe - Police, Big Brother Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective Sam, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Sam, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Police Officer Dean, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Sam Winchester works homicide in Topeka, still reeling from his girlfriend's death years ago. Sergeant Dean Winchester works in K9 in Lawrence and surrounding jurisdictions, since that horrible day his human partner Benny took a bullet for him. Lieutenant Castiel Mier is an academy firearms and marksmanship instructor, who lost his family in an act of vengeance that he didn't see coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Righteous Man's Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [L](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=L).



> AKF. YANA. 
> 
> And keep grinding.

The voice coming across the phone was familiar, and it sounded annoyed. The Colonel cocked his head at Dean in question.

Dean covered the phone with his palm and sighed. "Just Sammy, man. We promised to drop something off or whatever."

"No!" Sam was shouting. "Not whatever!"

"He heard that," Dean whispered to his partner.

"Of course I heard it! Dean, it's a cell phone! You can't just cover the mic the same way you can with a landline! God, you're so old."

"Sammy wants to get his ass kicked, buddy. Yes, he does."

His partner lay his head down on his paws. This could take a while.

"Dammit, talk to me instead for just a hot minute!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I am talking to you!"

"No. No, you're never talking to me. You don't talk to humans anymore, Sergeant Pepper! Maybe I should have your dog sniff you! You have got to be on something!"

"He doesn't work narcotics." Dean took a pull from his beer bottle, only to find it empty. He sighed. "Sammy's had a bad day, man." He smiled. "The Colonel suggests you go get laid."

Sam cursed. "The only time you've spoken directly to me in ten minutes and you're speaking for the Colonel. Great."

"You've only been on the line two minutes."

"Dean, I promise you that I will file a complaint with your lieutenant if you don't pull through on this. It's important. This is a very serious investigation. We don't have time for any of your blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah!"

Dean realized he was no longer processing his brother's words. He cringed. "Dude. I've never not pulled through. I've got the paperwork sitting in the Tahoe."

"Well, go make sure the Colonel hasn't eaten it!"

"Hey! He's a professional, asshole!"

"Glad one of you is!” Sam sighed. “Fine. Just submit the report. That’s all I need you to do.”

“What’s going on, Sammy? You usually wait till Saturday breakfast to rip me up.”

“I need this report before then.”

“Sammy.”

Another sigh came over the line, and the Colonel looked up in concern. “I’m just tired. I’m sorry. I know you’ll get the report to me in time to put this bastard away. I just…”

Dean reached down to let his fingers scratch into the Colonel’s fur. “This one is cutting too close to the heart. Sam, you’re an incredible detective. Homicide in Topeka has doubled its closure numbers since you joined. But you gotta remember that you’re human too. This one felt like Jess.”

Sam’s voice caught as he responded. “I don’t know why. The circumstances were all different.”

“Sometimes it just feels the same, Sammy. When the Colonel and I went to the scene and he did his thing, found the girl’s body, I could tell by your face this one was too close to your heart.”

“She was alive when the bastard burned her.”

Dean’s eyes closed. “Damn. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam. About this vic now, and about Jess all those years ago. You going to go to the counselor about this one?”

Sam scoffed at the idea. “No. Only therapy I need is seeing this guy in orange.”

Dean nodded, and exchanged a glance with the Colonel. “I know, man. Sammy is a stubborn piece of work, ain’t he? Look, man, I know that’s what the counselors are there for. I know how important it is for a guy on homicide to deal with stuff instead of keep it all in. Hell, I know better than anybody, don’t I, Colonel?”

“Dean, I don’t-"

“Shut up. Ain’t talking to you. Yeah, Colonel, you’re right, man. I mean, if I’d had someone shove me into the counselor office in time, I might not have ended up breaking when I did.”

“That was different-"

The older man continued, while the canine stared up at him as if understanding every word. “I know, buddy. When I lost my last partner, when I had to let Benny take one for me, I just kept shoving it all down, and that’s when I stopped finishing a bottle of beer every night, and started finishing a bottle of whiskey. Yeah, you don’t remember all that, Colonel, before your time, but it’s how we ended up together. Too stubborn to quit, too proud to ask for help, but too messed up to keep doing what I did with Benny. So I went back to training to work K-9, and things are good now. But you know, it didn’t have to be such a horrible transition, didn’t have to take me years. If I’d been smart like my little brother Sammy, I could have sucked down my pride and asked for help before it got too bad. Took me almost losing my job and my mind before I did what Sammy’s going to do right now.”

“I’ll make a goddamn appointment, all right? Jesus, Dean.”

Dean winked at his new partner. “See, Colonel? Told you Sammy’s the smart one.”

The dog lowered his head again, and closed his eyes, satisfied that he had somehow just performed an important service for his human partner.


	2. Waiting Room

In the end, it wasn't the counselor herself who was all that much help. He was meticulously punctual, took in everything she said, answered every question honestly, thanked her in the end, and walked out the door feeling like he had completely wasted two hours.

Not completely. That was unfair. He had gained one thing. He could now tell both Dean and his damn dog to mind their own business with a clear conscience. He had tried, and it hadn't done him any good.

Except that he had been meticulously punctual, and the counselor was running behind schedule, and the other guy was way too early, and those three things added up to too much time in a waiting room feeling awkward.

The other guy was a squad lieutenant, he said. “I used to be, I mean.” He shrugged. “I train at the academy now, and I do qualifiers.”

Sam nodded. “Firearms?”

“Firearms, less-lethal training, and marksmanship qualifiers.”

He stared at the clock and put his head back against the wall. “I'm due for my sidearm. Guess I better schedule it at the range.”

“What do you do?”

Sam cleared his throat. “I'm sorry. Sam Winchester, Homicide. I don't mean to be rude.”

The man took his offered hand with both of his own.

It was a rare, warm gesture, and it pulled Sam to attention. Suddenly, he realized how attractive this man was. He was in a crisp black uniform, but his black tie was loosened, and his top button was undone. It was a little distracting.

“And I'm Castiel Mier.”

“Lieutenant Mier,” Sam mused. “I think I've heard that…”

Blue eyes lowered to gaze at his hands, which had released Sam's.

He took a deep breath. “Oh. I'm so sorry,” he murmured.

Castiel forced a tiny smile onto his face. “Thank you,” he sighed.

As though Sam were not uncomfortable enough, sitting outside the office of a grief and trauma counselor, here in the small waiting room with him was a man who had suffered an unimaginable loss so horrible that everyone in the region knew his name because of it. And as usual, Sam had no idea what to say.

They sat in silence for another minute, and then the lieutenant cleared his throat. “You said you're due for your sidearm. Service weapon?”

“Uh, yeah. Topeka’s range is always a pain to book, so I seem to put it off till the last minute.” He laughed a little. “I used to go to the one in Lawrence, till once my brother and I showed up the same day to requalify. He's the only guy in the surrounding jurisdictions that can outshoot me. He made me feel like a rookie. I refuse to qualify at that range again. I'm petty like that.”

The older man laughed too, and some tension dissipated. It seemed he was as happy to talk about anything else as Sam was. “A bit of sibling rivalry can be a good thing.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah. A bit doesn't quite describe it. There's a reason we're the best marksmen in the area. Neither of us can stand to let the other outscore him. The ass. He had me so angry that day. The instructor was alternating between us. Dean winked at me before every time I pulled the trigger. Jackass.”

Castiel smiled. “Do you mean Dean Winchester? I wouldn't take it too hard if you can't outshoot Sergeant Winchester out in Lawrence. He's legendary.”

“And a jackass,” Sam added.

“From what I hear,” the lieutenant confirmed mildly.

Sam liked this man. He had a soft, dry humor, and a sincere smile.

“He’s K9, isn't he?”

“Yeah. Lost his partner years back, and worked a squad for a while, but...K9 is better for him.”

“Who was his partner?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Bear of a guy, Benny Lafitte.”

Castiel flinched minutely. “Line of duty,” he murmured. “I didn't know him. But I heard. Hell of an officer, from what I understand.”

“Yeah. Great guy. Great officer.” He huffed guiltily. “I didn't always see him that way at the time. But he took a bullet that was meant for my brother. Just wish I could have thanked him.”

“He was your brother's partner, Detective. It's no wonder that you saw him as taking your place. I'm sure he understood.”

He blinked at him in surprise. How did this man determine so quickly that Sam had seen Benny as competition for his brother? Was he that transparent, or was Castiel that observant? “Yeah. Yeah, I hope so.”

Castiel nodded. “Well, I know you don't need it, but if you ever want a practice test before your requalifier, this is my card.” He held it out for Sam to take, and smiled. “Believe it or not, as much time as I spend on the range every week, training or testing other guys, I rarely have time to practice myself. It might be nice to have company, and I don't mind a bit of friendly rivalry myself.”

A crooked grin came over him as he took the card. “Yeah. Maybe I'll let you know when I go out next. Text okay?”

“I prefer it,” he responded. “I like texting.” He smiled sheepishly. “I'm often better with emoticons than I am in person.”

Sam laughed, and ducked his head shyly. It was strangely nice knowing that this stoic lieutenant was as socially anxious as he was.

“Sam?”

He looked up from the card. “Yeah? Oh!” He glanced in the direction Castiel was pointing to find that the counselor had emerged from her office and was smiling at him expectantly. He hurried to his feet and stumbled clumsily toward her. In the reflection of her office door, he could see Castiel smile to himself and pick up a magazine.

So it was really just the next hour that was a waste of his time.


	3. That Which Haunts Us

The business card sat in Sam's wallet for ten days. The paperwork and preliminaries for this bastard’s trial consumed him entirely. He was always meticulous, but this time it bordered on obsessive. He would never forgive himself if there was a technicality available in this man’s defense. The man was a monster, and Sam had hunted him down, and he wanted the prosecutor to have it all wrapped up in a bow long before the trial.

At night, he missed Jess terribly. It had been a long time, and he still didn't know why this particular case was dragging out such intense emotions for him. Jess had been killed in an accident. It was nobody's fault, not really. But Dean and his damn dog were right. This one felt too much like Jess, and he couldn't stand it.

On the tenth day after his appointment, Sam finally broke down and made another one. He wouldn't have to tell Dean. He could just go. It hadn't helped the first time, but maybe…

That was when he remembered the card. He pulled it out and stared at the crisp, simple letters.

“What do you think, Jess?” he murmured aloud. “Doesn't hurt to make a friend, right?”

Except that it did. It hurt every time he started to care about someone. It hurt in a hundred ways. But not caring about anyone hurt too. The loneliness was eating him alive.

He smiled sourly. “And what would the Colonel say?” he asked himself.

The dog spoke suspiciously like his big brother in his head. “Doesn't hurt to try,” the voice whispered.

“That's bullshit, and you know it,” Sam muttered back. But he sighed and pulled out his phone, sent a quick text, and sat back. “There. Let the damage begin.”

He did not have to wait long for a response. It came in about fifteen minutes later. As promised, there was an emoticon smiling at him, and the vow to be at the range Sam had decided to visit. Sam found himself smiling too, and rereading the simple message three times.

“Okay, Jess. I'm putting myself out there. Making a friend,” he informed the silence. “That's what you would want, right?” He poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat at the small table covered in paperwork to eat it without tasting it. He sighed. “It's funny. You lose somebody, and you think all the time, you think, what would she want me to do? She'd want this for me, she'd want me to be happy, she'd like this. But I don't know. Maybe you'd rather I was miserable. Maybe you'd rather I couldn't continue to function without you. That what you want, Jess? Tell me, and I'll stop trying to live. It's so much effort. I almost wish you'd tell me you'd rather I didn't try at all.”

This was stupid. At least Dean talked to the dog. Sam was talking to a memory, someone who was gone forever. Sam had never believed in spirits before. But in the darkest and loneliest of his nights, he desperately wished Jess would haunt him. He listened for anything that his brain could pretend was her voice, and sometimes he even convinced himself he could feel her tucking his hair behind his ear while he sat in bed with tears trailing down his cheeks.

He had never actually stopped crying. He had just run out of tears.

***

Castiel looked into the mirror and heaved a sigh. He looked immaculate. That didn't mean he looked good. He wasn't sure why it mattered, but he was certainly aware of the difference. There were just two who had ever found him attractive, and everyone in three counties knew how that had gone.

The lieutenant turned his head slightly, and looked at the scar under his left ear. It was an entirely unnecessary reminder of how painful it was to be loved. Unnecessary because he could never close his eyes without replaying the scene in his head, and unnecessary because he would never again need to worry about anyone loving him. He had lost the love of his life to the man who had promised to love him forever.

Only Lucien Marque could have made that promise sound like a threat. And only Lucien could have made good on that threat in such a horrific way.

It didn't matter anymore. Lucien was gone. They were all gone. Even most of Castiel was gone. None of it mattered anymore.

Blue eyes scanned his environment dispassionately. Everything was in order, all as it should be. Balt’s side of the bed was untucked as he liked it, Castiel's had perfect military corners. Everything was spotless, as if an old Sergeant might arrive at any moment for inspection. One toothbrush in the holder, new bar of soap in the shower, pressed uniforms in the closet, shoes polished and aligned. His wedding band lay as it always did in the small black dish on the side table on Balt’s side next to the lamp that never turned on. Inside that table’s drawer was a book with a page dog-earred, in the middle, never to be finished. The only decoration on the wall was a shadow box with Castiel's military honors and Balt’s law enforcement medals. Beyond that, there was nothing of the man left, nor anything of Castiel's heart.

He sighed.

Part of him wished he were in uniform now. He felt better in uniform. Active or dress, it didn't matter. He wasn't good at being off duty. He had been so relieved to get his position at the police department after coming home from his second tour. Just the idea of being out of uniform permanently terrified him. He needed the structure, the purpose, the validation. Even as a commander, he had rules and duty to tell him what to do.

Balt had teased him about it more than once. He had worked in the police force in Great Britain for many years before applying for a position in the States on a whim. That was Balt. Impulsive, reckless, downright insouciant. He was a whirlwind, and Castiel was caught up in him the moment they met and Balt gave him that irrepressible smirk. “What's the matter, Cassie?” he had taunted in a whisper only he could hear, when their captain had introduced them and mentioned that Castiel was fresh from serving in Afghanistan. “Just enjoy a man in uniform?” Castiel had drawn his breath in with shock at the man’s boldness.

He had never gotten that breath back. Balt had been nothing like Lucien, except in those ways they were exactly alike. They each fascinated poor Castiel, each made him feel cornered and off-balance at the same time. Where Lucien was dark, however, Balt let color and light rain down into Castiel's life. Where Lucien ended every encounter with questions that must be answered, Balt walked away with a wink every time, leaving Castiel the one wondering. And while Lucien had finally pushed Castiel too far, it had always seemed like he couldn't pull Balt in tight enough.

“You're insatiable, Cassie,” Balt had scolded happily. “You'll break me, and then where will you be?”

“Lost,” Castiel admitted without hesitation.

A gentle hand reached up to touch his cheek. “Then I promise not to break.”

It wasn't a promise he had ever thought could be broken. Right in the middle of teasing about being too serious, in the middle of arguments about spending too much money on expensive wines and too much time keeping the house in perfect order, in the middle of laughing about vacations they knew they would probably never take, in the middle of flicking shaving cream, of washing dishes and stealing kisses, right in the middle of long nights of lovemaking and mornings spent smiling over coffee, right in the middle of perfection, Castiel's past caught up with him.

“Didn't I tell you what forever is?”

Castiel closed his eyes against the memory. His chest flinched violently, and he reached out to steady himself.

“Forever is...Well, it's forever, Castiel. I had forever first. I had you first. I win...so I win.”

He licked his lips and took a deep breath. He swallowed down the feeling that Lucien’s hand was tucking his hair behind his ear. It had been before basic that he'd had hair long enough for that. But Lucien was right. Some feelings were forever, and that one would probably always haunt him. Two tours of active duty, years on the police force, thousands of moments with Balt...and he could still feel Lucien’s fingers slipping his hair back into place.

It didn't matter anymore.

Castiel walked through the stark, silent house, and reached for his coat near the entrance. Then he stopped. There was too much remembering today to just pass by it. It was a betrayal to just pass by it. So he threaded his arms through his coat, but returned to the hall to a closed door he tried never to open. That door was different. He could sleep next to Balt’s untucked blanket, next to the wedding bands in the dish, next to the book in the drawer. He could look at the medals and feel quiet pride. But this door…

It creaked in seething accusation as he opened it for the first time in weeks. He took a deep breath, and made himself look inside. When his stomach was sufficiently sick, and his heart freshly flayed raw again, he closed the door, and continued out of the house to meet with Sam Winchester.


	4. The Colonel's Heard It All Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short moment between Dean and his partner, remembering.

The Colonel had eaten and was now seated like a statue at Dean’s feet. Unlike most service dogs, the Colonel never seemed to go off-duty. It didn't seem to matter how Dean tried to tempt him. Even playing was just another form of training to the canine. Dean respected that. 

“Been awhile since Sammy called, hasn't it, buddy?” Dean murmured. 

The dog’s eyes twitched in his direction, but since Dean didn't seem to need anything more than his company, he didn't bother moving. 

“You know I taught that kid how to hunt? We were home alone a lot back then. Middle of Nowhere, Kansas. Especially in the summer, nothing to do. So I took him hunting. Kind of the only way to stay out of trouble in a place like that, you know? Either you hunt and fish or you go knock over a gas stop. Those are your choices till the theater playing two movies opens up at night. And we didn't have much money for movies.”

The Colonel glanced at him. 

“We worked. All the damn time. You think Sam and me are workaholics now! Should've seen us then. Summers were spent getting any work you could get, and any morning you got free, you got up at four thirty and went fishing or you went hunting. If it rained...Well, that's how I met Benny, you know?”

The dog knew. He had heard the story many times before. But he didn't say so. 

Dean shook his head. “Went down to buy some smokes, if Pamela was working. If not, I'd get some older guy to buy them for me. That was my whole plan for the day. Get a pack of smokes. Dropped Sam at the library for the air conditioning, and my whole grand design for that day was to get a pack, and bonus points if I didn't have to pay for them. Benny was bored as me, and he would've held up the place if I hadn't literally run into him outside. Different life that would've been, huh? Instead of him and me splitting a pack and wandering around the town together that day, then every day after? He told me years later he would've held up that gas stop. Maybe a hundred bucks in the whole place. Wasn't the point. It was something to do. So next I know, we're at the academy together, instead of living in adjacent cells down at county. Sam, he's true blue, down to his blood. But me? Benny? We put on blue when we could've just as easy put on orange.”

He patted the dog’s head fondly. 

“Think that's why it hit me so hard. Benny and me, we've been pulling each other's asses out of bad spots our whole lives, since I was maybe fifteen and he was seventeen. Held each other to account. And then...One last time, he saved my ass. And I couldn't return the favor this time. That seem right to you, buddy?”

The Colonel looked up at him in sympathy. 

“Not right at all. Poor Sam, he's still grieving the one person he wasn't able to save. And I'm grieving the guy that saved me. Doesn't seem right at all…”


	5. Range of Emotion

Castiel was surprisingly easy company. There was talk about the sidearms they each used, about preferences, and the choices various districts and agencies made, what the branches of the military favored. Sam found him already set up in the indoor range, which was empty but for them. He set his things beside the older man, and waited for him to remove his ear protection. At that point, Sam was treated to a kind smile, and talk began. There were long minutes of silence between them, when each focused on his own target. But then Castiel would tap to get Sam's attention, ear protection came off, and there would be a gentle suggestion, a compliment, a friendly challenge, or a question.

By the time they had finished, Sam felt entirely at ease with this man, and he was relieved. As usual, he had worried over nothing.

They wandered the shop a little after finishing, and discussed the arms there. Castiel seemed to know everything there was to know about every weapon in the place.

“But you only keep one?”

Castiel shrugged. “It's my department issue piece. I only need one.”

“Most guys I know who have an encyclopedic knowledge of firearms are either fanatic collectors or-”

“Or in prison?” Castiel smirked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “What's different about you?” And wasn't that the question of the day? Sam couldn't remember the last time he had felt comfortable just socializing with anyone other than Dean. What _was_ different about Castiel?

“I know a great deal because it's my job to know. I'm an obsessive reader and researcher. Departments and colleagues often come to me for my opinion on the subject. I don't have much of an opinion. They tell me what they need, and I tell them which piece will do that best. I don't love guns, Sam. I just work with them.”

That made sense to Sam. He smiled. “I don't love murderers. But I spend all day every day tracking them.”

Castiel laughed. “I guess you understand then.”

“So what do you love?” It fell out of his mouth without permission from his brain. “I-I mean, to do. Things you...You don't love guns. What-what do you…”

The man looked away from the Ruger behind the case and tipped his head slightly. “I read. I enjoy very good coffee. I attend lectures on all sorts of subjects.”

Sam realized he was holding his breath. His mind snagged on one word. “Coffee? What, uh...what's the best place around to get coffee?”

A true, small smile lit Castiel's face, and it made Sam's chest loosen fractionally. “Back in Black on Dover,” he said without hesitation. “They've got the best coffee and a quiet, calming atmosphere. And they serve excellent sandwiches too.”

Sam cleared his throat and shifted his grip on his bag. “I appreciate you coming out today. Let me buy you lunch there. Please.”

Castiel nodded very slowly. “I have time for a meal.”

It wasn't the enthusiasm Sam was hoping for, but he would take it. “Great! I'll meet you there!”

It was a relief to slide into his Cherokee and close the door. “I asked to buy him lunch, Jess,” he murmured. “You proud of me yet?”

***

Castiel stared hard at the road ahead of him. He pushed emotion aside as well as he could, and simply drove to the cafe. He had enjoyed Sam's company, more perhaps than he had enjoyed anyone's in a long time. Sam was…

He caught himself smiling softly.

Sam was brilliant. He radiated warmth while keeping a comfortable distance, and he was as passionate about his job as Castiel was his own. He was curious, but he didn't push. And he had an endearing way of shifting from a confident, capable detective into a shy, adorable mess in a blink. He was sharp with sarcasm and sufficiently jaded from the work he did, but he sometimes had a boyish glint in his eyes that Castiel found very attractive.

Attractive. Castiel had not found anyone more than superficially, coldly attractive since Balt. There was nothing cold about the attraction to Sam. Castiel was not one to deny his own feelings. He owned them. Then he pressed them down into perfect control. The only time he hadn't been able to do that, he had found that he had become a victim. He had vowed never to be a victim again.

Sam was a gray area. Friendship was a gray area. And he had to be brutally honest with himself, and that meant admitting he was hurting badly for a friend.

He had pushed away from every relation he had when he lost Balt. It was impossible to keep grief from swallowing him whole when everyone kept saying how sorry they were. He had transferred to the academy to teach as soon as a position opened up, and he got a great deal of satisfaction from teaching and mentoring young cadets how to keep themselves and others safe. He had been told that his was the most stringent course at any academy in the region, and he took pride in knowing that his were the best-prepared rookies any captain or sheriff could want. He saw his Balt in the face of every cadet, and he was determined never to lose him again. He was determined to give him his best chance against a world which created men like Lucien.

Sam towered over the seated patrons in the cafe as he stared up at the menu boards, large hands stuffed into his pockets. Castiel couldn't help smiling. He watched him for a moment before approaching. A friendship with this man was probably a horrible idea. Sam had to know Castiel was gay, since he clearly knew his dark story, so Sam must not mind that. But he might be uncomfortable if he ever found out Castiel found him so incredibly handsome. And Castiel could not see that problem going away anytime soon. Sam was probably the most attractive man he had ever seen up close. He didn't radiate sex and mischief the way Balt had, or lust and danger like Lucien. But it was a calm, quieter beautiful. His heart raced just as badly with Sam, and yet his chest didn't tighten mercilessly. It was an interesting distinction.

At last, he stepped up next to Sam without a word.

The man looked down at him and smiled. “Hey, Cas. I've seen this place a hundred times but never went in before. They've got a lot of good choices. And I'm loving the AC/DC theme.”

“What do you enjoy, Sam?”

His long arm pointed up at the menu board above them. “I think I'm going to try the Money Honey salad.”

Castiel snickered a little. “I'm looking forward to the Shake an Egg myself.”

Sam’s laugh was a delight.

“They once had a special I still regret not trying. Soup Stripper. ‘74 Jailbreak, you know.”

The younger man grinned. “I'm going to have to bring my brother here one day. He's still got every album on cassette.”

Castiel shook his head. “That's dedication.”

For all the classic rock references, with preference given to AC/DC, of course, the cafe was still a calm, easy environment. Students lounged on black oversized couches, and business people tapped on their phones while eating their bagels on the stools by the window.

He and Sam took their orders to a small table with plenty of legroom. Sam explored his Money Honey salad with his fork, finding plenty of honey-roasted almonds in the mix, and Castiel bit happily into his burger with fried egg. They ate in companionable quiet for a time, then Sam gave him a gorgeous smile, and Castiel had trouble swallowing.

“So coffee and books. Lectures. What else?”

He reached for his coffee, the classic Back in Black, and hid behind sipping it for a moment while gathering his thoughts. “That's mostly it,” he admitted apologetically. “I'm boring. I used to travel, but that was mostly my husband dragging me along on adventures of his design.” Castiel felt the familiar ache, and added silently that he would give anything to have Balt drag him somewhere again. Anywhere. His eyes lowered, and he braced himself for the piteous mumble of sympathy that always immediately followed any mention of Balt.

But Sam just smiled. “He sounds like he was a lot of fun. Where did he make you go?”

Blue eyes raised in surprise. “He, uh...We went to the Azores in our last trip together. Balt loved the islands. Any islands. And he said the Azores were his favorite.”

“I've never been off the continent,” Sam sighed. “But I've always wanted to. I went to Mexico one summer in college, saw the ancient ruins, pyramids...That was kind of amazing. All my buddies were off tasting every tequila they could find, but I didn't mind hiking on my own. Might have been nice to have an adventurer like your husband with me, though.”

Shock melted into gratitude, and Castiel knew he was staring. That might be the kindest thing anyone had said since he had lost his husband, and it had been said with such genuine respect that he felt tears burn his eyes suddenly. He shook himself quickly. “Yes, well...I’m more of that type. Balt would have been the hero of the tequila party. Probably on a beach. I’m the one who finds, and I quote, ‘the most boring things available everywhere we go.’ I asked him to go with me into the lava tubes of a dormant volcano in the Azores, and he only agreed once I promised he could bring his bottle of wine with him to numb the boredom, as he put it.”

Sam’s eyes were bright with excitement. “That sounds awesome! The-the lava tubes, I mean. Not the...So what was it like?”

Castiel sat back. He heard himself telling Sam all about the fascinating structures and eerie way the volcanic activity from ages ago had shaped the rock. But he found that he couldn't take his eyes off this intriguing man, and he couldn't help thinking he wanted to know everything about him. Sam had sharp edges. He had seen them. But he was so soft and wide open now as he listened. It was amazing to Castiel how intensely Sam listened.

“That's really cool,” he breathed when Castiel finished. “I'll put it on my list,” Sam decided with a shake of his head. He stabbed his fork into his salad, then looked up again. “Cas? Can I ask you something?”

He took a deep breath. Here it came. The questions about Lucien. He set his napkin down with a sigh. “Of course, Sam.”

Sam licked his lips thoughtfully before speaking. “You talked about your husband.”

Castiel nodded. He was suddenly weary.

“Do you get anything out of your sessions with that counselor?”

He blinked at him. It occurred to him that he wanted to know everything about Sam, but yet didn't know why they had met in the waiting area of a grief and trauma therapist. “Yes,” he murmured. Then he shook his head. “No. Not...I get something out of the sessions. I can't say I get much from the doctor herself.”

There was something like relief and hope in those hazel blue eyes now. “Yeah?”

“It was your first time meeting with her?”

He nodded.

Castiel swallowed, and gathered a bit of his courage to him. He reached across the table and touched Sam's wrist briefly. “It gets easier to talk. And that's what helps. Not the doctor so much. Learning to talk.”

Sam took a shaky breath. “I can't imagine it ever really getting easier,” he confessed. “I was just listening to your story, thinking how familiar it sounded. My fiancé, Jess, she would rather order a drink and read on the beach, while I went and explored all the boring stuff. We almost could have gone on a trip together, the four of us. And she and I never really had the chance…”

“She's gone then,” Castiel sighed.

“Yeah. A fire, in her apartment building. I was out with my brother at the time, and we pulled into the lot to see smoke everywhere...Can't help wondering if I had just been there, would it have made a difference. You know? And Dean, he took his partner’s death real hard. He ended up being ordered to the grief counselor in Lawrence by his captain. Told him he could go get help or he could go home and stay there. So-so I guess he's trying to keep me from getting to that point. But the doctor wasn't...I don't know what I expected…”

“Naomi Major is hardly the doctor I might have chosen on my own. But she's better than the one the district employed before her. Dr. Zachariah was downright cold. At least Dr. Major pretends to be empathetic.”

Sam's eyes were darkening into a gorgeous green, and for just an instant, they sparkled too much. Then he blinked, and smiled. “I'm sorry. We were talking about volcanoes, and somehow I brought up Dr. Major.”

Castiel touched his wrist again gently. “Sam, I am sorry to hear what you've been through. And I don't mind talking, if you'd like. That's what helps, after all, and you seem to want to, I think. But let's not do it here. Could I invite you for some wine some evening? I'll cook something simple, and after dinner, we will exchange our stories. About Jess, and...and my story too. Would that help you?”

Gratitude wafted from Sam's small smile. “That would be...That’d be great. Any night. Just let me know. I really-I think I'd really like to do that.”

Castiel surprised himself with the truth of his response. “So would I, Sam.”


	6. The Good Fight

It was another week before Sam got up the nerve to text Castiel again. He had spent every night lying awake thinking about everything they had talked about, and everything they would talk about. It was a huge step for him, and he suspected it was for Castiel too.

“What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed quietly. “Didn't mean to wake you.”

“No,” sniffed the husky voice on the other line. “We're awake.”

He used to ask who Dean referred to when he used the plural. But he never bothered anymore. Dean hadn't dated seriously in years. He never had a woman over. Those he spent time with were always happy to have him at their place, and Dean preferred it that way. Yet another means of protecting his heart, Sam suspected. No, “we” referred to Dean and The Colonel.

“Sam? You there?”

“Yeah, I…” He snickered to himself wryly. “I wanted to ask The Colonel’s advice.”

Dean yawned. “Wow. Okay. I'll put him on. Come here, buddy. Sammy’s got a question.”

He laughed. “So I met a guy,” he began.

“You back to guys now?”

“Shut up. I'm talking to The Colonel. This is too personal to talk to you about.”

Dean chuckled quietly. “Go on. He's listening.”

And he probably was, Sam knew. The dog considered himself part of every discussion, which was made especially weird by the way Dean spoke for him, like the mutt’s interpreter. “So I met a guy,” he said again. “A cop. Instructor over at the academy.”

“Topeka City?”

“Shawnee.”

“Okay. We know some guys there.”

“He does some work in Douglas and Jefferson too. He's also a recert evaluator for firearms. He knew your name.”

Dean snorted. “Of course he knew my name.”

“Shut up.” Sam lay back in bed and closed his eyes. “So I went shooting with him. Then I asked him to lunch.”

“Oh,” Dean said. It was diplomatic of him to try to not sound surprised.

Sam didn't blame him. He was starting to think he would never be here again either. Not after Jess. “We ate at this very cool little cafe, with this classic rock-inspired menu, mostly AC/DC stuff. And we just talked. It was nice. It was...it was really nice. And then he said if I contact him, we could get together at his place for dinner and wine and talk some more.”

“What kind of menu?”

His eyes blinked open. “What?”

“You said it was AC/DC. What kind of food?”

“Dude, is that seriously the part of this you're focused on?”

Dean sighed. “I am, but The Colonel wants to know more about the guy.”

Sam smirked, then his smile softened. “He's been through a hell of his own. Castiel Mier. Remember him?”

“Shit, man. Wasn't he the one in the news? And all points bulletin around the departments? Guy's a freaking cautionary tale, Sammy. You really want to get mixed up in his mess?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, as though he had suddenly decided. “Yeah, I really do. He's this extraordinary guy, Dean, and he had this horrible thing happen to him, and...and yet he's still fighting the good fight, you know? He’s obviously still hurting bad, but he's still out there every day teaching cops how to help people. I don't even know how he could put on a uniform every day with a loss like that. But he does, and he really loves it. And he's got this little jaded sense of humor that you'd think life would have kicked out of him, but it's still there. He's had enough grief for a lifetime, but he's not done yet. He could have let it drown him, but he's got too much left to do still. You know?”

Dean’s voice was soft. “Just like you.”

He paused and frowned. “Well…”

“What's that, Colonel? You think Sam should get to know this guy better? You think he should put himself out there? I don't know, buddy. Sammy’s kind of awkward when he's trying to flirt. You've never seen him, but I remember how painful it was to watch.”

“Screw you,” he laughed.

“Oh, I know, Colonel. He's a mess, but maybe he's found a guy who's the right kind of mess too. Somebody who can understand him. What do you think?”

“I-”

“I'm talking to my partner.”

Sam rolled his eyes and waited.

“Colonel says you should watch out for yourself, Sammy. He cares about you, doesn't want you getting hurt again. He says you shouldn't be an idiot, and you should call us if you need anything at all. He's even a little proud of you for trying.”

A small smile crept into his face. “Yeah? Tell him I love him too.”

***

There was nearly nothing to prepare except the food. Castiel almost wished he didn't keep such a clean home, so that he had something to do instead of fret. And wouldn't Balt laugh at that!

He cooked a light pasta dish, with small penne noodles, a creamy mushroom sauce, and steamed asparagus on the side. He didn't know what Sam enjoyed, but he had seen the salad he had ordered, and thought he might like something like this. He made an effort to keep the sauce from becoming heavy. Sam struck him as a man who enjoyed good food but nothing too heavy.

He sighed in frustration. The truth was that he had no idea. He was making things up in his head and justifying them. He just had to hope he had gotten something right.

He was a good cook, had to be to keep Balt’s attention. He smiled to himself as he thought of how finicky his husband had been in all ways, how exasperating. It wasn't that the man had been hard to please exactly. It was more that he was hard to keep pleased. But maybe part of that was because Castiel had been so determined to do so. In any case, Balt would gush over how delicious Castiel's food was one day, then be bored with that same dish a week later. Castiel was constantly researching new methods, new dishes, new spices and sauces.

He missed having someone to cook for.

The timing of the dinner was well-planned. By the time Sam arrived, it would be ready to be plated and served. He allowed the sauce to simmer and set the table. He concentrated on making things pleasant but keeping them from being misconstrued as romantic in any way. He didn't want Sam to think he had gotten the wrong idea, or that this was anything more than friends sharing a good meal. He didn't want to make Sam uncomfortable. He seemed like such a genuine kindred spirit that it would be a shame to upset things like that.

He tried to channel his late husband when choosing the wine, and could hear the familiar fondness in his head as Balt relished his clueless mate.

“Cassie, you do want him to enjoy himself. That one is more of a punishment, wouldn't you say?”

Castiel frowned in concentration. “I like that wine.”

“Because you're a masochist, angel. Move along.”

“This would go nicely with the sauce.”

“It would. And if you want him to think you chose the sauce to go with the wine, instead of the other way around, by all means.”

He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. “I don't think he's a wine snob like you.”

“Then why are you bothering to seduce him at all?” Balt sighed in complete annoyance.

Castiel's eyes snapped open. He grabbed at the second bottle of wine and slammed the door to the cabinet shut. Maybe that was exactly what Balt would have said; it certainly sounded a lot like him. But it came from Castiel's own head. He began to think in circles. Had he thought of Balt saying that because it was truly Castiel's motivation in having Sam over? Or because that was what it would look like to his husband? Or because he was afraid that it would end up looking that way to Sam? Or because he felt guilty even making a friend dinner and sharing wine with him, because it was a betrayal? Or because he felt guilty making a friend at all? And if he felt guilty, was it because he was betraying Balt by befriending Sam or betraying Sam by letting Balt fill his thoughts when he had promised to listen to Sam's story?

The lieutenant forced himself to take a deep breath. He needed cold water to the face, and there was just one thing in the world which could always give him that, without mercy. He pushed himself away from the counter, and stumbled into the hall.

The door loomed before him. He closed his hand over the cold metal knob, and bit into his cheeks. Maybe Balt was right. Maybe he was a masochist. But it was the only way he knew to slap himself in the face and remember what was truly important. What was truly gone. He turned the knob and took a step into the abandoned room.

It never failed. If his heart was racing, it dropped it into his stomach. If he was overly wistful, it crushed the sentiment. If he was beginning for even a moment to forget, it slashed him open and filled him with memories as raw as yesterday.

Castiel took another breath. He felt his throat closing up, but he forced himself to linger another minute. Nausea swept over him, a flood of heat that came with beads of sweat at his forehead. He tried to swallow down the sickness before he finally had to back out of that door. It took a full minute for his vision to clear, for his hearing to return to him.

And when his senses found their way back to him, he realized his guest was knocking at the door.

Right on time.


	7. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naomi is not the best doctor. But she gets results.
> 
> This is what her sessions with Sam and Castiel looked like that day they met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm warning for emotional triggers, since Sam and Cas are both going into pretty dark places during their sessions with Naomi.

Interlude

“She was my whole world,” Sam murmured. His gaze remained set on his own hands. He wished the doctor wouldn't keep staring at him. “And-and I know that isn't healthy. I knew it then, and I sure as hell know it now. But my whole identity was her. I never thought of myself separate from her, not since we first got together.”

“In college,” the woman sighed.

He wondered if he was boring her. But he continued anyway. “Yeah. College. I was heading for the police academy in just a few weeks. My brother had been a cop for a year by that point.”

“Gene.”

Sam looked up and frowned. “Dean.”

“Oh. Yes. Jess and Dean.”

He sighed.

***

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow. His nails were carving into his palms. But he did as he was told and kept his eyes closed.

“Tell me what you see, Castiel,” Naomi Major was saying. This was a game to her. Castiel's most horrible memories, his darkest moments, they were her playthings. It made him sick.

But he forced himself to speak. “The window is opposite the door. So that it's the first thing your eyes are drawn to upon opening the door. Yellow curtains. Not like lemon. A soft yellow. Reminded me of a bird’s feathers. I saw a yellow bird on a trip Balt made me go on. And it inspired me when I painted that room and put up the curtains.”

***

“They say she probably died from the smoke before the fire even reached her. But I don't know if they can really know that for sure. I work homicide. And I know that sometimes…” Sam sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Sometimes they just don't know for sure. When I dream of it, it's always the fire that kills her.”

The doctor was quiet.

Sam swallowed. Some guidance in how to continue to talk might have been helpful. But he pushed himself on. “When I was a baby, we lost my mom in a house fire. She…” He took a breath. “She died saving me. Trying to save me. I was six months old, to the day. And she ran into my nursery and there was an electric cord that had frayed somehow, and the whole room was full of smoke. She went to grab me from the crib, and...Well, I don't know exactly what happened. Dean wasn't sure and Dad could never bring himself to tell me the whole story. But it came down to me being handed off to Dad, then to Dean. Dean carried me out through the smoke. He said he could feel the heat everywhere, and then the window shattered, and he could see flames in that room, and could hear Dad screaming her name...The firefighters had to drag him out. And he never forgave himself. Till the day he died, he still blamed himself for Mom not making it out.”

Dr. Major raised her eyes to meet his.

His sobs were strangling him, trying to get out of his throat. Sam shook his head. “I don't want to live my whole life...wondering if I could have saved her. I don't want to hate myself till the day I die because I wasn't there for her.”

***

Castiel swallowed with difficulty. “When you step inside…” His breath immediately became shallow. “It's cooler in that room than most of the others. I don't know why. Balt said it was the way our air conditioning was distributed. We had to leave that door open, so that it didn't get too cold. Even the door knob is cold,” he added for no reason. “I don't even use the air very often, but it's still so cold in that room…”

“What else can you see?” Dr. Major pressed.

He sighed. “There's the dresser. And the bookshelf. I loved making that bookshelf. It's the only thing I made myself. Didn't have the time to make everything. But my father was a carpenter, and I wanted to do the bookshelf. I guess I felt like it would be a piece of him in that room. And stocking it with books became the highlight of our preparation. It became a game between us. Balt would come home with one, and he would sneak it onto the shelves, and then a few days later when I came to put one there about geology, I would find his contribution about tropical fish. I'd bring home one about the American flag, and I'd find him sneaking one in about British folk tales. It went on like that till the last day. The day before he died, Balt brought home a book about sailing. Beautiful book.”

Castiel felt his tears streaming from his closed eyes.

“It would have been her favorite,” he rasped out hoarsely.

***

Sam’s lips quivered in his effort to hold tears back. “I don't want to live the rest of my life like this. It's eating me up. I would have loved her my whole life. But-but she's gone, and...and I'm still here, and…”

“What is it that you want, Sam?”

“I just want to help people without constantly wondering why I couldn't have been there to help her. I want to...I want to do my job without ripping myself apart every time I can't save someone. I'm not the one hurting these people. I'm not the one who hurt Jess. I'm trying to help them. So why does it feel like getting there too late is the same as snuffing them out myself?”

***

The tears were salty and bitter on Castiel's lips. “I was thirty the year we brought her home. Balt was twenty-nine. We had found each other two years before. And then we found her.”

“Can you say her name, Castiel?” the counselor prodded.

He shook his head, and squeezed his eyes tighter. “No. Not today.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“By the time she was two, she was our whole world. She was such a bright little thing. Balt dressed her in these rompers, he called them, since the day she came to us. She must have had a hundred. He and his sister Anna, they bought new ones every week. I scolded him for spending so much on clothes that were just going to get ruined, that she was going to grow out of so quickly. Now I wish I had let him spend everything we had on them. Because it made him so happy, and...and she never outgrew those last ones he bought.”

***

Sam put his head in his hands. “I haven't talked to her parents in two years. I used to call on her birthday. But it was too much. I can't...And I never understood why they didn't blame me. I let down their daughter. The most fundamental thing in a relationship is taking care of one another, and I let her down. Why wouldn't they hate me for that, even just a little? But they didn't. And for some reason I can't talk to them anymore because of that. I have no idea what they must think of me now.”

***

“Anna hates me. She was such a wonderful friend, one of the best I ever had. But when I lost them, she turned...I think she lost her mind a little too. And I can't blame her for that. They were everything to me. But they were everything to her too, and I had ripped that away from her. So she made perfectly clear exactly how much she hated me, and how she wished she could go back in time and keep Balt from ever loving me. I can't tell you how much that hurt. I don't have family of my own. Not anymore. And she was the closest thing I had outside of Balt and...and my little-my little girl.” He was gasping now.

“The room, Castiel.”

His eyes remained closed, but he laughed out his exhaustion. “That damn room. Dresser still filled with those damn rompers. Stuffed with pinks and purples...And he bought her yellows just for me. Whenever he didn't want to admit how much he was spending, he just bought a yellow one and stuck her in it because he knew I just melted when my girl was in yellow. I don't know why. It just...felt like happiness. The damn dresser still has probably a dozen with the tags still on them. When I cleaned out his clothes, I found a bag full of new dresses for her hidden in his closet. He liked to sneak them into her wardrobe one by one so I didn't notice. I did notice. But most of the time, I pretended not to.”

“Did you keep the new dresses?”

He laughed again helplessly. “Of course I did. You know I did. He meant for her to have them.”

“What was her name, Castiel?”

His heart was tearing itself into useless shreds. He could swear somewhere in an adjacent room, he could hear Lucien whistling. “I can't.”

***

“Sam, do you know how the fire started?”

He cleared his throat and nodded, pulling his head up with effort. “Uh, yeah. She was baking. And it was an accident. She had started something, then she fell asleep while she waited, and...and it was just a cheap oven, and the whole apartment was a fire trap. I tried to talk her into one of the student dorms, but…Anyway, they say she never woke up. The whole place was filled with smoke long before the fire caught.”

Dr. Major watched him. “So it was her fault.”

Sam frowned severely. “What? No! Of course not!”

“She was negligent, and she was responsible for the fire.”

“What the hell does it even matter? She burned up some damn cookies! That's not a mistake that should kill you!”

The doctor nodded slowly. “But it did. It killed her.”

***

“There's still blood on the toddler bed frame,” Castiel wheezed. “Right there.” His finger pointed blindly into space, eyes squeezed shut so hard he could see stars. “Probably Balt’s. He was trying to get to her. After everything Lucien did to him, he finally died trying to save our baby girl. As much pain-” Castiel gasped, and suddenly he could smell the scene again. “As much...pain as-as he must have been in, he was trying to save our baby girl when Lucien finished him. And she was already gone. He couldn't have known that. But I guess-I guess I'm glad for that. That she didn't have-have to be-be afraid, to see her papa...to see him, hear him…”

“What was her name, Castiel?”

His lips quaked into a smile. “It was Angel. Angel, because that's what Balt called me.”

“Castiel, you know Angel is with her mother. You know that.”

***

Sam’s rage spoke for him, before he could filter it. “Of course it killed her! She was careless!”

The doctor was silent.

The buried anger was pouring from him now. “She was careless! Jess was so smart, so damn smart! And she just let herself be...How could she be so damn careless? She was everything to me! How could she take away my world like that?”

***

“Angel is with her mother,” Castiel said mechanically, obediently.

“Castiel? You understand that. Don't you? Her mother took her. Anna. She's with Anna.”

“Angel is with her mother.”

The doctor sighed. “You say it, but I don't think you really know it.”

Castiel's blue eyes opened to stare at nothing. “Balt’s sister.”

“That's right, Castiel. Anna still had rights as her mother, and when your husband was killed, she used them to take Angel back to England. She changed their names, moved away, so you couldn't find her.”

“She's gone. The night he died was the last time I had a daughter.”

“But she isn't dead, Castiel. She's with her mother. And Anna loves her. She probably takes very good care of her.”

Castiel took a breath. “I was arrested. Because they thought I had killed Balt. Till they found Lucien, they didn't know...And by the time I was able to find her...Anna had disappeared. Just left that note saying how much she hated me. That she...she was taking Angel where she could be safe. Because even though it turned out I didn't kill Balt, I had let the devil into our lives, and he did it. Angel deserved a better parent than me. And even if I had found her, even if all the lawyers were wrong about Anna’s rights...Anna wasn't wrong about that. She was still one of Angel’s legal guardians, and it turned out that the way things were worded in the contracts, her rights outranked mine, but even if they didn't...I let in the devil who killed Angel’s papa. I don't deserve to be her daddy.”

***

“I didn't realize how angry I was with Jess for that one careless mistake. That one moment stole every promise from us. And it isn't her fault. But I've been angry with her all this time, haven't I? And I'm so ashamed of being angry with her that I try to blame me instead.”

***

“My little girl is out there somewhere. But I'll always warp the memory to her dying with Balt, won't I? Because that's the night I lost her. The guilt is the same. My family is completely gone.”

***

Naomi recorded her notes after each session, and sat back to reflect. Sam was a more complex case than she had originally thought, considering that his mother had died in essentially the same way. But the release of latent anger was a good thing. It gave them a place to start. And Castiel was the same mess he always was. That poor girl was out there, growing up, and she couldn't possibly know how much her daddy loved her. Castiel's psychosis was a coping mechanism, trying to protect him from the betrayal of Anna stealing his child. It was a horrible situation. Castiel's brain convinced him again and again that Angel had died that night; it was the way he coped with the more painful reality, that her mother deemed him unfit to be in her life. If losing his Angel to a psycho like his ex-boyfriend was the way his brain tried to make things better, Naomi could only imagine how much it must hurt Castiel to remember the truth.

She suspected she would be meeting with both patients again quite soon.


	8. The Smell

Sam chewed on his lip mercilessly. Somehow, standing outside Castiel's door, he was beginning to regress into an overgrown twelve year old. He suddenly felt enormous standing on Castiel's small front porch, enormous and lanky and awkward. A dreadful thought stabbed at him suddenly, and he was overwhelmed by a horror that somehow he had misunderstood something. It lasted only a moment before the door opened, but in that time, Sam felt certain he was going to throw up.

“Hello, Sam,” the deep voice said through a calm almost-smile.

But Sam could see the stress in his eyes. His friend looked nearly gray. “Hey, Castiel.”

The blue eyes brightened fractionally at the sound of his greeting. “Come in. I've got dinner prepared. If it's terrible, we can order pizza. But I hope you'll like it.”

Sam followed him into the house. He still got the impression he needed to duck through the entryway, but he was beginning to feel proportional to his surroundings again. “I'm sure it's great.” Then he began to grin. “Wow. It smells great!”

Castiel treated him to a true smile finally. “I'm glad. I thought we should eat something and then relax a bit. If you still feel like talking after that, we will.”

With that one statement, Castiel managed to put Sam entirely at ease. He sighed with relief. He could back out of storytelling if he wanted to. Of course he could. This was just dinner with a new friend, getting to know someone better. There were no obligations here.

Castiel was watching him. “Feel better?”

He laughed shyly. “A little,” he admitted. “I guess I've been trying to think of what to say for days.”

“Me too,” Castiel assured him. “So? Come have a seat, and we can eat and talk about nothing for a while. If that's okay, we'll try talking about something. And if that goes okay too, we’ll move on to anything. By the time we’re done, we may have even talked about everything.”

Sam couldn't help laughing again. He was afraid he might like this man far too much. “That sounds like a plan.”

Castiel turned and led him to a set dining table. “I like having those. Even if they don't last.”

“What's that?”

“Plans.”

Sam smiled. He looked around him finally, and realized how precise everything was, how clean, almost sterile. He snorted softly. “You're like the son my father always wanted.”

“What?”

He shook himself. “Nothing. You just...You look like you've got it all together.”

Castiel gave him a wry look, as if he disagreed with that observation entirely. “Do I.”

It wasn't a question. And that meant Sam didn't know how to respond.

“I'll get our plates. Make yourself comfortable.”

Sam chewed his lip a little more, then chose one of the chairs with a place setting in front of it. He hoped it was the right one. This was probably the most awkward he had felt anticipating a meal since meeting Jessica's parents over Thanksgiving break back at college.

When Castiel returned, he carried two plates with a grace that made Sam envious. He was grateful that he didn't have to carry them himself. His hands were shaking. The man smiled approvingly at the space in front of Sam, and he felt like he had passed some sort of test by choosing the right chair.

The detective smiled warmly at Castiel as he sat to join him. “Smells great,” he said again, because it was true, and because it had pleased his host so well the first time.

The color was returning to Castiel's face, and a look of appreciation came over him. “Thank you, Sam.” He murmured somewhat bashfully about what the dish contained, pausing often to apologize preemptively for anything that did not appeal to Sam.

Sam listened, letting a smile deepen his dimples on his cheeks. This man was so charmingly adorable. It melted Sam's anxiety with every syllable. He took a bite, and was amused to feel the same hopeful gaze on him that Dean used when he tried a new burger or barbecue sauce on him. Fortunately, he was able to give a genuinely delighted reaction.

Castiel was biting his own lip.

“This is fantastic!” Sam sang out.

His host sat back in his chair, and the detective was certain his shoulders dropped two inches. “I'm so glad,” he breathed.

They were both able to relax then, and they covered some ground they had already discussed as a warmup. They laughed together easily, and the tension dissolved, leaving only amiable companionship in its wake.

The food was excellent, but not heavy, which Sam appreciated. Dean would say he had a sensitive stomach, but really, it was a nervous one. Light food was generally healthier, and it sat better amongst his butterflies. The wine was equally delectable. Sam was no epicurean, nor a connoisseur of good wine, but the sauce and Chardonnay seemed to be a perfect match. For some reason, Castiel laughed somewhat triumphantly when he said so.

After the meal, Castiel brought out a plate of chocolates and cheese, and they moved to the living room to enjoy their wine. Sam noted with a bit of gratitude that Castiel had also brought a second bottle.

The conversation was still light, but he was enjoying it a great deal. Castiel told him stories about his military tours overseas. Sam countered with tales of small town Kansas. They laughed easily, and drank more than enough. Sam was certain he had never been so attracted to a man but so at ease with him at the same time.

***

“Dean’s hustling her brother and his buddies out of everything they own over at the pool tables,” Sam cackled, “and me, I'm teaching her how to throw darts, and before long, she and I are in the backseat of Dean’s car. Dean comes barreling out of the bar, does an epic hood slide like he thinks he's freaking Bo Duke, and dives into the driver’s seat, and then realizes I'm kind of busy behind him, but these three huge guys come running out after him. So Dean’s like, ‘Sorry, Sammy, better hold what you got,’ and he throws it into drive, and we're across town before he gets back under eighty, and he's laughing the entire way like this is the best kind of fun a couple of white trash Kansas boys can have.”

Castiel was shaking his head. “What about the girl?”

“You kidding? She left me for Dean practically before we even had our clothes back on!” He was laughing so hard now that he had to set his glass on the table before he spilled it.

Wonder and mirth lit Castiel's eyes. “And this was all right with you?”

Sam shrugged carelessly. “We're brothers, man. I'm not going to let anything come between us, certainly not some girl I barely knew. She was more his type than mine. Besides,” he added, grabbing up his glass and tossing the rest of his wine back in a gulp, “I moved on to her brother, and everybody was happy.”

Castiel nodded. Then the wine let a piece of information slide in and lock into place. “Her…her brother?”

The man reached for the bottle again. “He wasn't so sore about losing to Dean after I got done with him.”

He couldn't help it. He felt his lips part, and his jaw sink.

Sam saw his face and hurried to clarify. “I don't want you to think-I'm not like that usually. Certainly not anymore. Before Dean went to the academy, he and I had some wild times, but we settled down pretty damn quick. I don't want you thinking I just sleep with anybody. Especially after Jess. I'm not into casual hookups anymore. It's gotta mean something.”

That was hardly what was shocking Castiel into silence. He swallowed hard and forced himself to speak. “So...men too?”

He had begun to pour another glass, but now he looked up. “Yeah. I thought...I guess I figured you knew.” The hazel eyes were shading with concern. “Is that-I didn't think that would be a problem. I mean, considering you...you married a man yourself and…”

A problem. Castiel wanted to laugh, but he was having enough trouble breathing at all. “No,” he whispered, almost to himself. “No, it's no problem.” He blinked hard and shook himself. “Obviously it's no problem,” he said again firmly. What was wrong with him? Had he lost his mind completely? The fact that Sam sometimes enjoyed men did not mean he would be at all interested in Castiel! And no matter how attractive Sam was, how charismatic and sexy and warm, no matter how good a man he clearly was, and no matter how badly Castiel's skin craved those large, strong hands, Castiel was not going to betray Balt in any case.

Sam searched his eyes, then lowered his own. “Good. I mean, that's good that it isn't a problem. I don't want to make anything awkward.”

 _As if it weren't that from minute one_ , Castiel thought with a sigh. “Of course not. I assure you, Sam, I don't have any delusions about this continuing beyond a friendship. I like your company. I promise I'll always be content with that. So I don't want you to give it any thought.” He thought he had sobered over the last hour, but clearly he hadn't. Clumsy and messy words flew from his mouth, and he hoped he got his message across.

But Sam looked back up and stared at him. “What if I like your company? What if I have delusions? About us, about what we could be?”

The room was spinning suddenly. Castiel gasped in a small breath, then sighed it out. He stumbled to his feet. “I'm...I'm drunk. And so are you.” He pushed himself to move, to escape the tilting floor and slowly turning walls. He had not had a drink in nearly an hour, though Sam had continued, and he certainly had not consumed so much as this. He wasn't truly drunk, not enough to account for the shifting of architecture.

This wasn't just the alcohol.

“Cas?”

He continued putting one foot in front of the other, but he couldn't truly see where he was going. His hand fell onto a cold, metal knob, and suddenly everything screeched to a whiplash stop. The world came back into focus in a brutal way.

His sidearm was in his hands. Why was he in uniform?

_Castiel took a breath, listened, turned the knob silently, then threw the door open and gripped his gun with both hands. The smell hit him first thing. Blood and death and the end of the world hit his nostrils a fraction of a second before the sight truly did._

_“Lucien!” he screamed. “Get away from him!”_

_His former lover looked up at him from where he knelt beside the lifeless form of Castiel's husband. He grinned. “Hello, Castiel,” he sneered. “I've missed you.”_

_His mind was reeling, and he gagged, but his training kept him upright and ready. “What the hell did you do?”_

_“I just wanted to meet him,” Lucien laughed, as if his whole body were not soaked in Balt’s blood. “He didn't want to meet me.”_

_Heartbreak and wrath were nearly blinding him. But still he remained steady. “Where's my daughter?” he spat. “My little girl, where is she?”_

_Lucien shrugged as though the question bored him. “You weren't supposed to have anything I didn't give you, Castiel. Remember? I was going to give you everything. You didn't need anything I hadn't given you.”_

_Castiel's breath came too shallowly now, and he was shaking all over. “Where is she, you monster?” he demanded hoarsely._

_The man before him sighed. “Do I need to explain this again? I love you, Cas, but you aren't exactly the brightest. That's okay. I'll do the thinking for you when we're together again.”_

_“Together?” Castiel hissed in utter disbelief. “How can you be so warped that you think…?”_

_Lucien’s teeth bared in a snarl. “That you're mine? Because I know it. Since I first saw you, I knew I would make you mine. You're such a peculiar creature, aren't you?” He took a step forward._

_Castiel's grip tightened. “Stop! Don't you come any closer!”_

_But he took a long step over Balt's body, shaking his head._

_The officer slammed backward into the door jam in his desperation to keep the gap between them._

_Lucien watched with confusion. “Cas. Castiel, Cas, Cassie.”_

_He couldn't help flinching at the word. Balt called him that._

_“I don't understand why you're fighting me. He's the one who came between us,” Lucien sighed, pointing behind him to the broken body on the floor. “We're safe now. It's all going to be fine. I promise.”_

_Castiel gathered to him the last of his strength. “Where's my daughter?”_

_Lucien sighed. “She wasn't your daughter, because I didn't give her to you.”_

_The past tense made his knees crumble, and he collapsed onto the ground. “You killed her. You killed my baby.”_

_“She was a baby, but not yours. You don't need anything I don't give you. I'll give you everything you need. If you want a daughter, I'll give you one.”_

_Grief flooded his senses, and it was with no strength at all that he pulled the trigger._

_Lucien wailed in horror. “You ungrateful pig!” he screamed, gripping his shoulder in agony. “You ungrateful…” He gasped in a breath. “You still need to be taught,” he rasped out. “I'm going to go to my hotel, and get my things, and you will wait for me here. And I'll come back to reteach you how to be mine.”_

_The gun fired again, but the bullet barely grazed Lucien’s neck. Castiel could no longer see at all._

_He gasped again. “You nasty thing! After everything I've done for you!” Before Castiel even realized there was a knife in his hand, Lucien had lunged at him with it, tearing into his own neck._

_Castiel was already on the ground when he slumped. His heart was leaking misery out through his neck. The primitive part of his brain ordered him to get up, but the rest just wanted it all to kill him._

_The knife clattered to the floor beside him. “Oh, baby,” Lucien was moaning. “Baby, baby, look what you made me do. You made me do this, Cas. But I'll make it up to you. It'll all be fine now that he's gone.”_

_“You're the damn devil,” Castiel croaked. His consciousness was pouring out onto the floor. Chill was taking its place. Horrible, terrifying chill._

_“Come here, baby,” Lucien was saying as things began to go dark. “I'm going to take care of you. Nothing's going to come between us anymore. I'm always gonna be right here with you.”_

_The words sent the chill all the way to his marrow. His teeth were chattering._ Shock _, his training told him._ Emotional and physical shock. Get up _, it told him. But his slowing heartbeat pounded out something else entirely._ Sleep _, it soothed._ There's nothing here for you now. Sleep, and don't ever wake up again _._

_So he did._

***

Sam held Castiel's head in his lap for a very long time, inside a room that had old bloodstains on the furniture. He let the man shiver and quake, and cry out. There was nothing he could do but hold him and keep him warm during what Sam recognized right away as a post-traumatic episode.

So he did.


	9. Keep Grinding

The coffee warmed his hands, but it did not keep them from trembling. The lieutenant could not meet Sam’s gaze. Shame and humiliation pumped through his blood just knowing the detective was watching him with those empathetic, sweet hazel eyes.

“So they arrested you because when they found you, you were holding the knife that killed your husband, and it looked like you had been injured in the struggle.”

He nodded wearily. “They did the right thing. I was placed in custody and taken to the hospital. I was there when I woke up.”

“And Lucien?”

Castiel sighed, and put his forehead down to rest in his hand. “The trial was horrible. Just incredibly horrible. You remember it; I know you do. The way you looked at me when I first told you my name.”

“I remember what was in the news,” the man said kindly. “But it must have been unimaginable.”

“It was...something I wouldn't wish on anyone but Lucien himself. Anna disappeared during the two days I was in custody. She left me a message through my lawyer. By the time I was out, she and Angel were gone. Completely gone. Lucien came to the house while the three of them were all home, and he would have killed them all, I think, but Balt convinced him that Angel was Anna’s daughter, that we were just uncles. Technically, I guess that's...but in any case, he let them go. According to Lucien at the trial, he let them each pack a bag, and he told Anna that if she looked back…” He laughed bitterly. “He told her to run, and if she looked back, he would turn her to a pillar of salt.”

Sam’s eyes widened.

“Yeah. I don't know. He was crazy. But she didn't ever look back. Her letter to me...She had asked Lucien why he was doing this, and he told her it was because Castiel wanted him to. And when she found out that I'd been arrested...she believed it. Even when they released me on new evidence, she said she didn't care that I hadn't done it myself. Lucien was my mistake, and so I had killed her brother. She took Angel and didn't look back. Anna had been my best friend for two years. She got pregnant, and she told us she was thinking of-of giving the baby up, and Balt and I jumped at the chance. It was perfect. For all four of us. It was perfect. And then my mistake from years before showed up and destroyed it all.”

“I'm so sorry, Cas,” Sam sighed.

When Castiel looked up at last, he saw Sam's eyes sparkling with tears. He smiled weakly. “Thank you for caring. Most people...I don't have many friends. I'm not good at it. I realized very quickly and painfully that all our friends were Balt's friends or Anna’s. Not mine. And you can see I'm not in much of a state to nurture a friendship. The thread I'm holding onto day to day can snap any moment, like tonight.”

Sam reached for his hand to hold it. “Cas, why don't you leave this place? It's killing you being here with all these ghosts.”

Castiel shook his head. “No,” he rasped out. “I can't leave.”

“But why…” Then Sam sighed.

He smiled up at him helplessly. Sam was intuitive. Before he had even finished the question, he had the answer. But Castiel confirmed it. “I can't leave because this is where Anna knows to find me. I had to change my number so he couldn't call me. But I can never leave this place. Because I can't find Anna. And-and I don't need to anymore. It's been a long, long time. And I know she's...she's caring for Angel wherever she is. But I can't leave because if I did, and they needed me, it's the only way she could find me.”

Sam cringed. “God, Cas.”

Trembling fingers brushed at his eyes to rid himself of tears. “Sam, you should go. You were hoping we could talk, and-and I obviously can't. I wouldn't have even invited you if I had known I wouldn't be able to hold myself together. I haven't ever fallen apart like that in front of anyone. Except the doctor. And you have your own grief to deal with-”

But Sam gripped his hand tighter. “No! Cas, no. This is the kind of friendship I need. I need to know that…” He sighed again in frustration. “Cas, please. I'm not looking for someone to just listen to my story. I've got the county psychologist for that, and so do you.”

He stared at him. “Then what…?”

“I need...this. This, you and me sharing our grief, struggling together. I lost my mom in a fire when I was six months old. Two decades later, on the same day, I lost my fiancé. In a fire. I'm so angry, all the time, and I didn't even know why. But knowing your story...I know now.”

Tears slipped silently down his cheeks. “Because you didn't do anything to deserve it, and neither did she, and it happened to you anyway.”

Sam smiled at him, and he could see the sparkle of tears in his eyes too. “That's it exactly. All this time, I've been trying to be angry at someone. All my life, really. I went through stages where I blamed everyone I could for my mom, including her. Hell, I remember having dreams that a demon had come and killed her. I blamed my Dad, my brother, everyone, but when I couldn't make any of that stick, I decided the only person I could really blame was me. She had come into that room to save me. And I made it out without her. And Jess...I need to be angry, every damn day, so that I don't just let it swallow me up.”

Castiel sniffed and nodded. “I need to blame myself because otherwise I'm just a victim,” he hissed. “And I can't stand to just be a victim. So I pretend that I had some control, when really Lucien ripped that from me the minute we met. He still controls me. It doesn't matter how-how strong I am, how well-trained, how proficient I am with any weapon or combat, or even just how old I get. Lucien can still rip my heart out just with one memory.”

“And it doesn't matter how many people I save, or how many monsters I hunt, because I'll never be able to save the two women who meant everything to me. My close rate on cases is the best in the region, but when it comes to Mom and Jess, I was entirely helpless. So I blame myself. Because if I don't…”

“You're just a victim.”

The first tear slipped past Sam's lashes. It was somehow a beautiful thing to see, in spite of how it made Castiel's heart ache. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “I'm just a victim. So that's why I don't think you should make me go. Because I think I can be good for you, and I know you're already good for me. My big brother refused to let anybody in when his partner got shot. He's an alcoholic, and he's barely hanging on, like us. He found himself a friend, and he's making it work. He's got a Colonel who listens. I could use a lieutenant who understands.”

Relief flushed through him. His eyes closed, and he nodded. “Thank you, Sam.”

There was a smile in the younger man's voice when he spoke again. “If I tell you again that I think we could be more to each other than just friends, will you run away again?”

Castiel opened his eyes slowly. “You were drunk,” he murmured.

“Maybe. I'm not now.”

 _What would Balt say?_ Castiel wondered frantically. _What would he think?_

But the hand was strong, and the voice was a balm for the pain. “Cas, I don't see it as betraying them. Jess, Balt, Angel...They're gone, and-and we've got to keep fighting the only way we know how. This stasis we're in now…” He huffed a laugh. “It ain't cutting it, man. Not for either of us.”

“I do all right,” he insisted. “I never miss work.”

Sam smiled sympathetically. “And that's how I gauge everything too. I must be fine so long as I don't miss work. I'm good at what I do, and I'm dedicated. You are too. So you just need to decide if that's enough for you. Because it isn't enough for me anymore. Not since I met you. But you gotta decide for yourself. Is it enough? Or would you like something more?”


	10. Party of Three...and The Colonel

Castiel stared ahead impassively as the review board gave its verdict.

It was the first time the man had someone there for support during a proceeding. Sam did not dare touch his hand, but he knew just being there was what his lover needed. The two of them were in full dress uniform, Sam his department issue, and Castiel his Air Force one. Sam was sorry it was the only time he had seen Castiel in his. The man was intimidating, and very, very sexy.

The only time Castiel had shown even an ounce of emotion was when Lucien’s letter to the board was read. It wasn't to the board at all.

“Sweet Cas-Mier. You're listening. I know you are. You wouldn't miss my parole hearing. You're so loyal. So dependable. So predictable. I knew you'd be there for me. You can let them know that everything I did was out of love for you. To protect you. I'm not angry with you, Cas-Mier. Not for leaving me for the military. Not for that ridiculous man you married, or even the kid you pretended was yours.”

That was the moment Sam watched with a broken heart as Castiel narrowed his eyes in a tiny flinch. Beyond that, there was no sign that he even heard the words at all.

“I'm not angry with you for firing that gun. Not even for firing it twice. You were afraid, my love, and that is what I still can't understand. Castiel, you know I would never, ever hurt you. When I get out, we can be together again. I've forgiven everything you've done, so don't worry. When I'm out of my cage, we will never be separated again. I promise. I love-”

“I’ve heard enough,” the board officiant interrupted. “And I think the lieutenant has too.” He sighed and looked at Castiel. “I'm sorry to put you through all that, Lieutenant Mier. We have an obligation to listen to a statement from the inmate. We don't have to listen to rantings designed to manipulate a victim.”

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured.

Sam shook his head. There were times he wished they would release Lucien, so Sam could hunt him for what he had done to Castiel and his family.

The board members glanced at one another. “Are we all in agreement that Lucien Marque has no clear understanding of his crime, nor repentance for it, and that he remains a threat to his victims and the community, as well as potentially to himself?”

There was no dissent among them.

“Lieutenant, Detective, we appreciate you coming out. If you have a statement, now would be the time.”

Castiel stood. He brushed Sam's arm with his fingers as he did so, but otherwise did not acknowledge him. “When Mr. Marque killed my spouse, traumatized my sister-in-law and our child, and attacked me, in my own home, he said that I have a fundamental misunderstanding of what forever means. I trust the parole board and our correctional facilities to help him understand its meaning better himself.” He nodded at the board members, making eye contact with each. “Thank you for your time.”

Sam took a deep breath, and held it.

Parole was denied for Lucien Marque.

***

The young woman wore a white sundress. Her blond hair curled delicately, displaying a charming beauty mark on her forehead.

He himself was dressed impeccably in a dark blazer and jeans, with a gray shirt. It had the vee at the neck that he knew looked brilliant on him. He also wore a gold chain that reached down past the neckline, and held a memento from his dearly beloved husband, a small geode with quartz and amethyst on it.

The other man sat a little apart from her. He wore a dark cap, and white collared shirt under a dark jacket. His beard and dark glasses hid his face quite well. A German shepherd sat stoically at his feet.

Balt sat between the man and the woman, and put both his arms around the back of the benches. “Nice day for a white wedding?” he said cheerfully.

She smiled at him. “Yes,” she agreed. “Which groom are you here for?”

He shrugged. “Both, I suppose. But Cassie...I'm his first husband, you know.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I'm sorry.”

Balt shook his head. “Don't be, dear. He's an incredible lay.”

She giggled. “Good. My Sam needs that.”

“Your Sam?” the other man said then, in a thick Louisiana drawl. “That make you Jess Moore?”

The young woman sighed wistfully. “It almost made me Jess Winchester.” She shook herself and smiled again. “But I'm glad he's happy. It's been so long.”

Balt nodded. He stared up at the two men exchanging vows between them. His husband looked glorious when he was happy. He took a breath, though that was pointless. “Who are you, then? Just crashing?”

The other man shook his head. “Naw. I'm here to look after my boy. There.” He pointed at the man standing next to Sam, smiling with pride and quiet contentment. “That's Dean Winchester. My old partner. I'm Benny. He and I rode together on the homicide team for a while. Had each other's backs, you know?”

Balt watched Castiel smile up at Sam. A tiny ache hit him, but he quashed it down quickly. “Yes,” he sighed. “I know.”

Benny patted the dog’s head. “Somebody's gotta look after the hard-headed son of a bitch, right, Colonel?”

The dog looked up at him and gave a low huff in response.

Dean looked up from his post. He snapped his fingers once. The Colonel leapt up the stairs silently to stand by Dean’s side where he belonged.

Balt and Jess smiled. “Good dog,” they remarked in unison.

Benny nodded. “He’ll watch over them,” he mumbled with confidence.

“They're watching over one another,” Jess added.

Balt touched his pendant gently, and felt a burden lift from him. He had just come from checking on Anna and Angel. As furious as he was about Anna separating Castiel from their daughter, he had to admit that in all other ways, Anna had done well. And they had reconnected with Castiel not long ago, slowly working toward a reconciliation of sorts. “They'll be all right now,” he decided. “It's been a very long time. But they'll be all right.” He glanced at Jess, and took her hand, then threw a careless arm around Benny's shoulders. “Weddings do bore me so. Care to ascend with me to the next party?”

They each smiled at him.

***

The Colonel watched the three figures fade away from his sight. He looked up at Dean, and sighed contentedly. His charges were all accounted for. Dean, Sam, and even the newest one, Castiel, who brought him treats on Sundays. They were safe, and they smelled happy. The Colonel loved his job watching over his family, and he knew without a doubt that he was the best dog for the job.


End file.
